I Thought This Was What You Wanted
by Bea Ryan
Summary: Christmas morning with Bass, Jason, and Charlie. There's one thing each of the men wants more than anything else in the world, and it isn't Charlie. (Mostly Bass/Jason. Some Bass/Charlie/Jason.)


Bass rested his head on Jason's chest and felt the strong, possessive arms tighten around him. Bass' eyes surveyed Charlie, stretched out like a contented cat beside them on the bed, before meeting her gaze. The sex was great, but the quiet moments afterward were addicting.

He gave Jason's nipple one final flick with his tongue and felt the younger man tense and shudder beneath him before one of Jason's hands moved to tangle in his hair.

"You're going to kill me," Jason complained.

"At least you'll die happy," Bass answered.

"Yeah. I would." Jason breathed deeply and Bass felt his body rise as the broad, strong chest beneath him filled with air. Bass centered his head on his lover's chest to better hear his heartbeat.

While the men were exhausted and content to snuggle after their morning exertion, Charlie, as always, seemed ready to take on the world. Bass had once accused her of being orgasm powered and she'd cheerfully agreed, offering to load the wagon if he'd make a meal of her body.

"It's Christmas morning," she said. "Where are my gifts?"

Jason answered, "You don't like what we just gave you?"

"You give me that all the time," she said with a playful swat.

Jason ran his hand slowly up Bass' back. "Sounds like we're pestering her. Next time it's just you and me, OK?"

Bass cut off the argument before the bickering could begin. "Charlie, go look in my pack. The clear bottle sealed with wax is for you. Merry Christmas."

Charlie scampered, still nude, across the room and rummaged through Bass' bag. "This one?" she asked. The bottle had the distinctive Coca-Cola shape, but a hand-carved cork stoppered it and it had been further sealed with a thick layer of white wax. The dark liquid inside moved viscously through the bottle as she slowly spun it and watched the air bubbles large and small work their way through it.

"Honey?" she asked.

Bass smiled. "Do you think it's honey?"

"It's not quite thick enough and it's too dark."

"Taste it," he said. "You might remember it."

"It looks like medicine," she said.

"It's not," he promised. "It's sweet. I think you'll like it."

Charlie used her knife to cut the wax seal before carefully working the cork free. She dipped a finger into the bottle and brought it to her lips, so eager for a taste that she forgot to use the opportunity to put on a show for her boys. Her eyes flew wide. "How did you get maple syrup this far south?" she asked.

"You know it?" Bass asked.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm from Wisconsin. We have maple trees there."

"Pardon me," Bass said. "I guess I should have given it to Jason."

"Why wouldn't Jason know about maple syrup?"

Bass closed his eyes and his jaw tensed. "It takes a long time to distill. We were focused on other products in Pennsylvania."

Jason gave him a gentle squeeze. "I tried the real stuff as a kid. I liked the fake better. Now I don't really like sweets at all."

Bass shifted against his lover, twisting his body so their eyes could meet but still pinning him against the bed. It worried him to know he could do no wrong in Jason's eyes; he'd lost his way last time he had the power to absolve himself of anything. At the same time, he couldn't remember the last person who tried so hard to make him feel good. There had been supplicants and hangers on in Philadelphia, but they had been manipulating him for their own ends. The only thing Jason wanted from Bass was more of him.

"It's very sweet, Bass. Thank you." Charlie said, licking another sticky drop from her finger, this time remembering to cast a sly glance at her pile of men. She caught Jason's eye and pulled a silly face make him smile when tonguing her finger had failed to do the trick.

"Front pouch of my pack," Jason said without moving. "It's the bundle in the waxed cloth."

Charlie scampered over to the battered backpack and shoved aside Jason's dented Gerber multi-tool and a collection of bullets and arrowheads as she pillaged the front pouch. She shot him a victorious glance as her fingers found the slick, waxed cotton bundle. She pulled it out, careful to keep it upright and bound by the ribbon so the small pieces inside couldn't escape, and asked, "This one?"

"That one," Jason said.

She bounded back to the bed and carefully unwrapped her spoils. "Honey roasted nuts!" she exclaimed, leaning over to plant a sloppy kiss on Jason's lips.

"No salt, no spices, crunchy sugar," he confirmed.

"Exactly the way I like them! Thank you." She planted another kiss on him, teasing Bass with her still nude breasts in the process. "Today, Jason, you are my favorite boyfriend."

Jason's grin widened and Bass couldn't help but smile to see him so happy. Charlie's sass was just part of her personality now, he blamed Miles for that, but time and attention hadn't made Jason any more confident. Jason met his glance, his face still stretched in an exuberant grin, and Bass lifted himself up gave Jason a quick kiss.

"There's no competition to be my favorite boyfriend," Bass said, "But I still want to know what's in the trunk."

They all looked at the battered leather steamer trunk in the corner. Jason had lugged it back a week ago after a day spent scouting and looting. He'd declared it Bass' Christmas present, rummaged their supplies for twine to tie a bow on it, and had ordered them to leave it alone. In the last seven days they'd tripped on it, sat on it, stubbed their toes on it, and Jason had even caught the hem of his pants on one of the brass corner reinforcements and torn a hole in them, but none of them had opened it.

"Go open it," Jason said nervously.

Bass climbed out of bed and found his pants, quickly sliding into the worn fabric and buttoning up before striding across the room and inspecting the trunk as if it were about to detonate. Charlie and Jason traded a quick glance and burst into giggles. General Monroe had arrived for Christmas and was ready to assess the gift situation.

"I hope there's something sharp in there," Charlie whispered to him.

"There are a lot of sharp things in there," Jason said. "I don't know what they all are, but he does."

Bass crouched in front of the trunk, briefly touched the mottled leather covering the solid frame of the box, and popped open the tarnished latches. He stilled as he stared into the box and let himself fall from his crouching position to sit on the floor. When he finally spoke his voice was thick. "You did good, kid."

Charlie wrapped herself loosely in a blanket came over to study the gift. The trunk contained an assortment of old fashioned tools. The wooden handles and metal work ends were worn from previous use. None required power. They were valuable, she knew, but their appeal to Bass escaped her.

"Where did you find these?" Bass asked.

Jason answered, "There's an abandoned village about ten clicks out. It looks like it used to be one of those historical re-enactment places. Someone tried to set up there at some point, but they didn't stick. They didn't take the woodworking tools with them when they left either. There's a big rope and pulley lathe and some other stuff I didn't recognize. I can take you out there if you want."

"I'd like that," Bass said quietly.

"I don't get it," Charlie said.

Jason answered, "Bass likes woodworking. He built or repaired just about everything in Presidential Hall."

"Really?" Charlie asked, turning to Bass. "How do you even know how to use this stuff?"

"My dad was a carpenter. I helped build half the cabinets and gazebos in Jasper," he answered. "Do you remember the kitchen at your Matheson grandparents house?"

"Not really. Why?"

"I designed and built that for them." Bass paused and rubbed a hand through his beard. "I had a tough time with my dad's second marriage and his new family. Your grandma was good to me, helped me settle into the changes." Bass laughed dryly, lost in memory. "She came home from the grocery store in the middle of demolition. We'd wanted to surprise her and she sure as hell was surprised. She started chasing Ben and Miles around with a wooden spoon and I just kept unscrewing cabinets."

Bass turned to Jason and his eyes shone as he spoke. "This is really great. Thank you."

A hot flush crept over Jason's skin and he looked away.

"Well," Charlie said. "I don't know how impressive my gift is going to be now. Miles promised me you'd like it."

Bass quickly stood up. "You got gift giving advice from Miles? Miles?"

"Yeah. Why?" she asked warily.

"Did he tell you he knew a 'never fails gift for the man who has everything'?"

Charlie's posture drooped. "Yeah. You don't like it?"

Jason asked, "What is it?"

Bass shook his head, trying to clear away memories of Christmas in the Republic. "She got us steaks, whiskey and whores."

"No way!" Jason exclaimed.

"No, I didn't," Charlie said.

"My apologies," Bass said. "That was always Miles' go-to gift."

Charlie flopped back on the bed. "I know you've been cutting down on your drinking. I got you steaks, pie, and whores."

"Really?" Jason asked.

"Yeah, really. They'll be here tomorrow for dinner."

Bass suppressed his smile but his eyes still crinkled at the corners. "You can't be excited about the pie, Jason. You just told me you don't like sweets."

Charlie crossed her arms and glared at Jason. "It better not be the whores."

Jason's eyes darted around the room. "Steak, OK? I like steak."

Charlie laughed. Bass drew Jason close to him and kissed him on the forehead. "We're teasing you. It's OK to be excited. She wouldn't have given it to you if she didn't think you'd like it."

Jason sagged against Bass and began to breathe again. He'd killed for each of them, but keeping them happy always seemed to be just beyond his grasp. His nightmares no longer focused on failed missions but instead drug him through images of life without them.

"Why tomorrow, Charlotte?" Bass asked. "Today is Christmas."

"I gave in," she said with a defeated sigh. "I'm having dinner with Miles and my mom. You can't have whores without me, but you can come have venison with my mom and uncle."

"Pass," Jason said. "Miles tried to kill me a couple of times before I ever laid a hand on you. I doubt knowing about our... arrangement has made him like me any better."

She turned to Bass. "How about you? Christmas dinner with old friends?"

"I'll stay with Jason," he answered.

"Suit yourselves," she said. She turned, grabbed her clothes from the floor and headed to the bathroom to clean up. The men laughed when they heard her cry of, "Damn it's cold!" She'd insisted on this hotel because of it advertised working plumbing, but in order to get water to the second floor she had to open the window and draw up the bucket the staff had filled. The drainage from the building worked, but they'd de-emphasized the work required for "running" water when the group had checked in.

Bass turned to Jason. "You haven't asked about my gift to you," Bass said.

"I don't need anything."

"I got you something to open anyway," Bass said.

Bass pulled the package from his rucksack and handed it to Jason. It was wrapped in layers of old wanted posters, blank side out and carefully overlapped to hide the contents, tied with twine, and then painted with small designs.

"Nice wrapping," Jason said. He fought down the urge to ask if Bass had painted the paper himself. He'd rather believe he might have than know it wasn't true.

"Presentation matters. What people think matters," Bass said.

Jason worked at the knot, making an effort not to nudge the soft contents beneath and wrinkle or tear the paper. He'd press it beneath a book later. When he finally had the string free, he untwisted the twine and studied his gift.

"Socks." Jason's heart fell as he tried to fit this present into his feelings about Bass. "Thanks. I do need a new pair."

Bass grabbed him by the back of the neck, scruffing him like a puppy, like he had when their relationship had first gone down this track, and pulled him into a rough kiss. "I told you it was something to open. You're getting what you really want, too."

Sex, Jason thought. I'm getting laid for Christmas. My girlfriend and my boyfriend both got me sex for Christmas. If we hadn't just spent the morning banging I'd be happy about it. I have to smile.

Jason tried to beat down his disappointment and show enthusiasm with his hands and lips. Bass pulled away.

"You don't get it, do you?" Bass asked.

"Get what?"

"I know what you really want, and I want to give it to you."

"Bass," Jason said, shaking his head, "You always want to give it to me."

Bass ran his thumb along the ridge of Jason's ear before pinching the hard edge of his jaw and forcing Jason to meet his eyes.

Bass said, "I picked you. Not Charlie. Not Miles. You. There are other places I could go, other people I could spend the day with. I chose you. That's what you wanted, isn't it?"

Jason clenched his teeth and Bass felt the muscles tighten under his fingers. "I don't want to be your mercy date, Bass."

Bass shot out of bed and threw a mug at the fireplace. The wooden vessel thudded dully against the brick before landing with a hollow sound on the polished floor. "I fucking miss crystal," Bass muttered.

Charlie opened the door of the bathroom, hairbrush still in hand and rolled her eyes at the men glaring at each other. "Idiots, the words you're looking for are 'I love you.'"

Bass stared out the window and Jason studied his hands as she righted the cup and sat down to tie on her boots. She quickly finished the job and slid into her coat, pausing at the door as she decided if she should say more. Jason's hung head and sagging posture forced her forward. "When I say, 'I love you guys,' I mean 'Thanks for the sex' or 'We work well together.' You two have moved into something else. You need to find a way to say it, because there aren't two people on the planet who need to hear it more." With that said, she left. Silence hung thick in the room.

Jason broke first, striding to Bass, pushing him against the wall, and crushing against his body, forcing one heavily muscled thigh between Bass' leaner ones and rubbing his smooth cheek against Bass' beard. Jason had dipped his head to trace kisses along the hard cords of Bass' neck when he heard the words whispered in his ear. "I love you."

Jason froze, certain of what he'd heard but afraid to believe it. Jason whispered, "Don't say it if you don't mean it."

Bass pushed him far back enough to look into his eyes. "I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it."

Jason swallowed hard. "Can you say it again?"

"I love you."

"I love you, too," Jason answered. "You already knew that."

"It's still good to hear," Bass replied.

"What now?" Jason asked.

"You tell me. You're the one who shoved me up against the wall," Bass answered.

Jason looked away, their bodies still melded but unwilling to meet Bass' piercing stare, and settled his head against the wall behind Bass. "I'm sorry," Jason said.

"I'm not," Bass answered. "Tell me what you want and it's yours." Bass' gut clenched as the words left his mouth. He'd made an offer like that once before. He'd wound up a running a country and despised by the man who'd led him into it. Bass knew Jason wasn't Miles, but he still felt the need to probe the edges of his wounds while the moment was open. "Anything," he said, his eyes flashing with that edge that struck fear in both friends and foes. "You can ask me for anything. What do you want? What do you want me to do?"

"Just tell me you love me again," Jason answered. "The only thing I want from you is you."

Bass squeezed him tightly, ecstatic and terrified to know that Jason meant it, drowning and floating in the same feeling himself. This man's love couldn't fill every hole in his past, but if he let it, it could change his future.


End file.
